


She has stolen all your spoons ( a crack crack crack fic)

by cranberry_juice



Category: Barrett Wilbert Weed
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Broadway, Crack, I stan Barrett so hard okay, She is the love of my life, This is a crack fic, This is literally just an inside joke with my friends, Why Did I Write This?, i came up with this at 3 am, thats why i did this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 19:43:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20159053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranberry_juice/pseuds/cranberry_juice
Summary: A crack fic. That's literally it. I told this story to my friend as a joke at 3 AM and we both laughed our assess off so i just had to write it down and share it with the world. It's just weird. Like that's it.





	She has stolen all your spoons ( a crack crack crack fic)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goawaybri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goawaybri/gifts).

> So my best friend and co-writer Bri (goawaybri) and I were on the phone at 3 AM and I was like "I'll tell you a bedtime story." This is what I came up with in my sleep deprived stupor. This isn't hate on Barrett i PROMISE we stan Barrett with all our hearts. Bri and I are working on an ACTUAL Cady/Janis fic right now. We're about seven chapters in but we're not gonna post until we're done. 
> 
> Don't take this seriously, obviously. It's literally just a weird mess.

You’re sitting in your arm chair. It’s a quiet night. A fire roars in your fireplace, and its crackling soothes you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, revelling in the comforting homey smell of your remote cottage. 

The moon and stars shine bright in the sky. They don’t do that in the city - there’s way too much light. The stars are one of the many things that draw you up to your cottage each weekend.

You’re slowly drifting to sleep when a rustling in the kitchen makes you jump, your eyes flying open. 

You’re supposed to be out here alone. There’s not supposed to be anyone for at least a mile. And there’s certainly not supposed to be anyone in the house.

Your heart drops to your chest. The millions of horror movies that take place in remote cottages stream through your mind. You stand up slowly, gathering a blanket around you and walking wearily into the kitchen, terrified of what you might find.

“Hello?” You call out croakily. There’s no answer.

You feel like the white girl in a horror movie. The dumb one who seeks out danger. The one who dies first. 

But you tip toe forward nonetheless, your eyes wide and your body numb with fear. You peek into the kitchen to find it empty. You falter. Maybe it was just your imagination?

But then there’s another rustle. A loud one. The sound of cupboards opening and closing. Of scraping metal.

It’s coming from behind the kitchen island. 

You carefully pick up a knife from the drying rack and take a deep breath, inching forward. 

There’s many a foe in the forest. Coyotes. Bears. Shia La Boeuf. You never know what you might find. You were told to get a gun to protect yourself in your remote cabin, but you refused (#GunControlNow) so you clutch your knife and take a deep breath, moving to the other side of the kitchen island.

There’s a figure crouched on the floor, surrounded by different types of silverware. It looks up at you and meets your gaze. You gasp and drop the knife as you recognize the person in front of you.

It’s broadway Actress and iconic goddess Barrett Wilbert Weed. 

“I am the Barrett Goblin.” She announces, her tone serious and mystifying, “I have come to steal your spoons.”

Your shock and confusion renders you speechless.

Barrett scoops up every spoon in front of her in a quick, practiced fashion. She doesn’t give you so much as a glance as she scuttles off like a spider, disappearing into the darkness. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and turn to your stove, where your grandmother’s famous soup is currently warming up in a pot. 

You wanted that soup. But it is hopeless.

Barrett has taken all your spoons.


End file.
